Men Plan God Laughs
by girlwithdimplesx
Summary: Six years after their separation, Sam and Mercedes are in the same city again. What happens when the love of a lifetime resurfaces and the new lives they had planned are put to the test?
1. Prologue

**Hi guys! Welcome to the sequel to Won't Always Lose. Hope you enjoy!**

**P.S. you can find the prequel on my profile :)**

MERCEDES' POV

The thing about falling in love with Sam was that she never actually meant to—not the first time, and not this time. When he'd called her after he'd arrived to New York and she agreed to meet him, she'd had nothing but friendly intentions—innocent. And for a while, they had been doing okay. They texted and hung out like buddies do and nothing seemed out of line. She wouldn't lie, he was more gorgeous than ever now that he was older and it was impossible for her to ignore the immediate nostalgia and warmth that took her over at first sight of him again. She remembered everything, as if she could ever forget. Being with Sam had been the best four years of her life and she wouldn't deny that. But when the time came to separate and their relationship failed, after so long, what else could do she do but move on? She never expected to see him again and when she did, from then on she had a more than difficult time not thinking about him. Admittedly though, finding out he was also dating someone else made it a lot easier to shake the aforementioned nostalgia and warmth before it all crushed her. So they were friends, good friends. It wasn't until she suddenly found herself calling him first when she had great news to share instead of her boyfriend, until she found herself smiling and daydreaming when she found his scent in her clothes after they'd spent time together, until she found that her days were instantly improved by the simple sight of his name on her phone when it rang and she smiled like a child being given their favorite candy—until she was doing _so_ many of the things she did when they were still together—it wasn't until _then_ that she began to feel guilty. She was dating someone else and so was he. She knew what it was like to be cheated on and she would never cheat on someone nor would she ever be the other woman. And though she and Sam hadn't yet done anything that physically and truly warranted guilt, she felt guilty anyway. Because though it couldn't be seen with the eye, she knew what she was feeling. She recognized what it felt like to be in love with Sam. It was beautiful, but the guilt that came with it this time around was crippling.

She only hoped her guilt would be enough to stop her now, as she stood in front of him, both of them soaked in their wet clothes, the towel she'd been playfully drying his hair with falling to the ground when he suddenly rested his hand on her cheek, warming her skin the way it always used to. His eyes locked with hers. And she knew exactly where the gesture would lead if she didn't stop him, which is what she was supposed to do.

Right?

The problem was, if she was being honest, she didn't know if she wanted to stop him. Looking at his lips, she wondered if they still felt the same—if they could still send chills to her soul. Stopping him would mean she would never find out. But not stopping him would make her like Derrick—a cheater. How could she ever become that person? The answer was she couldn't. She couldn't cheat, she couldn't do that to anyone, she knew what it could do to a person. She knew it could destroy them. And she wasn't prepared for the horrible things she would have to endure afterwards: the biting guilt, the painful expression on Luke's face when she told him. She wasn't sure she would be able to take it. And that was what she was reminding herself of at this very moment.  
Funny how just the gentle caress of his thumb against her cheek could make her forget it all. Suddenly her thoughts were battling—half of them telling her no, urging her to walk away. And the other half encouraging her—using all of the beautiful memories she had of them together as swords to fight; reminding her how powerful and sweet their love once was and warning her of how shameful it would be if she didn't find out if it was still blooming. It fought hard and with such strategy, growing louder and louder until the other half was defenseless, becoming but a whisper, just as quiet as the two small words that escaped her before she could stop them

"Kiss me."


	2. Chapter 1

**Hi guys! If you follow me on tumblr then you know that on Tuesday I dislocated my shoulder which is why this update took a little longer than I thought it would. My arm is in a sling for the next three weeks and I can****'t use it. ****It****'s very difficult to type with one hand so bare with me. Also, reminder that FF(.net) likes to delete random words from my uploads sometime so please if you need something clarified let me know. **

**Enjoy! :)**

* * *

SAM'S POV

So he wasn't exactly sad to be leaving. San Diego hadn't been the most exciting place in the world to live, not that he'd even had the slightest bit of time for excitement. He was a busy man, and most of the time he enjoyed that. In fact, being the busy man he was had been the only reason he had been able to stop thinking about her, finally, two years after their break up.

_Her._

Mercedes Jones.

Who admittedly was the very first person he thought of when the promotion and relocation were presented to him. Sitting on the plane next to a woman with wavy blonde hair and a small boy who was clearly her son, he recalled the day his boss has sent for him. He'd been sitting in his private cubicle, analyzing data for several companies when his co-worker and friend Jared had peaked his round curly head in.

"Sammy-o," he almost sang, Sam didn't look up, "big boss wants to see you," he continued, tapping the cubicle once before heading off. Sam sighed as he finally looked up.

"Should I bring my balls?" he called after Jared, who sent back a chuckle as he continued on.

Demitri Rudnikov was by nature a _ball-buster_. He spoke bluntly, honestly, and with authority at all times. Sam often wondered if he had friends and what he might do when he's at home. The only image he could ever come up with in his head was of Demitri sitting alone in a dimly lit room in a singularly cushioned chair watching some old Russian sitcom with a lonesome tear falling from his eye. Which really wasn't a fair judgment-the man could just as well host parties every Saturday, Gatsby style with thousands of visitors.

Unlikely. But possible.

Standing from his desk, Sam straightened his navy blue tie as he headed towards the boss' office. He couldn't imagine what the man must've wanted but he racked his brain nonetheless as he walked. He'd quite often had conversations with Demitri which from what he'd learned was a _big deal_. Apparently, Demitri didn't really _talk _to anyone unless he felt they were a necessity. So he wasn't exactly worried about what he might have to say, just simply exhausted from a long week. It was Friday afternoon after all.

When he arrived to the office, he knocked softly on the door and waited for a gruff voice to give permission and when it did, he entered.

"Samuel, have a seat." he said brusquely, typing something on his computer as Sam made his way to the brown leather high back chair. A moment passed before his fingers fell still on the keyboard and his hands moved to rest, interlaced, before him on his desk. Suddenly his eyes scanned Sam quickly before his brows furrowed.

"Where's your jacket, son?"he asked him, his accent strong.

"My jacke-?,"

"Your suit jacket-blazer-where is it?" he clarified.

"I didn't wear one today-didn't you tell me I didn't have to wear one everyday? Four years ago?" Sam wondered.

"I did," he agreed shortly as he nodded.

"_So_," Sam replied in confusion.

"That was back when you were an assistant brand manager." Demitri said ambiguously. Sam's eyebrows furrowed.

"And now I'm-?" he trailed off, slightly excited, slightly befuddled. Demitri looked at him and smiled shortly before bringing the glasses around his neck up to his eyes. He fingered through the stack of paper on his desk, absentmindedly asking;

"How do you feel about New York?"

_New York_.

He thought he'd heard the words _New _and _York _but at the time they'd only sounded like _Mercedes._ Almost as if the words all meant the same thing.

Sam swallowed.

"New York?" he repeated back with a soft shrug. "It's _nice_," he replied, his mind still wandering.

"Great," Demetri replied to a suddenly distracted Sam. "It's where you promotion is," he continued, bringing Sam back to his own brain. _Promotion?_

"My promotion?" he asked.

"To Associate Marketing Director." he explained. "You move next week." he continued almost dismissively.

"Next week?"

"_Wear _a _jacket_," Demitri told him, handing him a packet with all the information he would need before standing up and extending his hand to him, which was almost synonymous with saying _get the hell out _in his world. Almost instinctively, Sam had stood too, taking the packet and reaching his hand to meet Demitri's, the surprise and confusion still fresh on his own face. It didn't seem optional though he knew it was, but the truth was he'd made his decision the moment he'd been informed.

The promotion, the city, and the fully furnished condo that after half reading the packet he found out came with it-how could he refuse?

He tried to convince himself that his decision had nothing to do with _her_.

Many things had crossed his mind as he thought more seriously about the promotion on his drive home-though his decision was already made. But there was _something _that had slipped from his consideration. Or _someone _rather.

His girlfriend of six months, Nicole, who he thought he would have received a _good luck _text from once he got off the plane, but it never came.

He guessed it wasn't exactly fair to call her his _girlfriend. _They hadn't ended things per se, but they'd decided to be open to the idea that it wouldn't work out.

Okay, he guessed it wasn't fair to say _they_ had decided. He hadn't really made it a choice and she wasn't particularly happy about that. The fact was, he'd been with Mercedes for four years-four amazing years. He'd loved her like he didn't think he would ever love another.

And distance had destroyed them in just two months after they separated.

With Nicole-the woman he'd met at a club who had only started off as a convenient lay, the woman whose family he hadn't even met yet, the woman he wasn't sure he even loved-he could imagine a long distance relationship with her lasting about a week.

He cared about her a lot. She was a great woman-smart, pretty, sweet. She was a catch, if he was being honest. She loved him-she confessed that often. And within just six months, he could admit he'd put her through a lot.

There were things that she wanted that he couldn't give her; things she wanted him to _say _that he couldn't. Because there were parts of him that emotionally, he just couldn't reach anymore. Not since _her. _

So he couldn't lie and say that Mercedes wasn't at the very front of his mind rather than the back as he waited at baggage claim, as he hailed a cab outside of the unnervingly large New York City airport, and as he was driven to his new condo. The cab smelled like cigarettes and dust and Sam tried to hold his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tan skinned driver with a short blonde pony tail cut his eyes at him in the rear view mirror, just before he chuckled lightly and Sam guessed his expression must have been amusing.

"Don't worry," the young man said. "Sooner or later your nose gets used to it,"

"No, yeah-" Sam almost gagged. "I think I'm already adapting," he blatantly lied. The cab driver only laughed and shook his head.

Sam hadn't had even an inkling of what his new home looked like but just standing before the tall stone high-rise, his head lifting as his eyes scanned the windows, counting them from top to bottom until they ended on the _fifteenth _floor, before his gaze fell back to eye-level, landing on the tall, buff, and bald security guard just before the front door-he just had a feeling he wouldn't be disappointed. The guard was dressed in a dark suit and suddenly Sam felt under-dressed in his gray t-shirt and jeans. The man never looked at him, only look passed him even as Sam approached him more closely. And when he was close enough, the suit moved quickly to open the door for Sam and Sam almost laughed as he stepped through.

_Is this for real? _

It was a bit over the top if you asked him. It was a Sunday, for Christs sake. Wasn't there a family this guy could be home with?

"Thanks, man," Sam said, not even a little surprised that he received no response.

Upon entering, Sam was taken aback in more ways than one. The first being that he was immediately rushed by another doorman in an equally fancy suit at the second door as he escorted him in, almost frantically wondering if Sam had anymore bags he needed carried. Sam wondered if these people worked for money or were their _lives _at stake. He gently directed the young man to the cab outside and told him his apartment number, though he himself wasn't sure how to find it.

The _second _being that he was dumbfounded at the sight of the interior of the building. The floors were a glossy white marble, the walls a chic gray with beautiful long lights installed on every other section of them. Sam approached the receptionist's tall brown desk, passing a stout woman in a pants suit chasing her probably six year old son through the lobby, and a section of blue-ish purple cushioned chairs placed in a half circle with a silver coffee table in the middle of them, a white vase sitting on the center of it, holding a bushel of beautiful orchids, their color almost identical to that of the chairs. The place was so gorgeous that he could almost get over how ostentatious it was.

At the receptionist desk, a woman with fair skin, hazel eyes, a tiny round nose, and a tight brown pony-tail at the back of her head smiled at him. Sam frowned at her suit.

"Oh, come on," he said in exasperation as he parked his rolling suitcase. "Tell me you guys are only wearing suits 'cause it's Sunday." he continued. Lindsay-the receptionist-smiled sweetly.

"You must be new here," she replied simply and he laughed shortly before sighing.

"Sam Evans. Embarrassingly new." he said, extending his hand. She shook it politely, her eyes falling to his full lips before returning to his gaze as they released each others hands. "How does this work? Do I check in? Do I just go? I dunno, this sort of feels like a hotel." he rambled and Lindsay chuckled.

"Mr. Evans, if I could just see your I.D." she said distractedly as she typed something on the computer screen before her. He nodded as he went for his wallet. Handing his I.D. to her, he exhaled loudly as he looked around again, people watching.

_Suits. Suits. And more suits. _He wondered if even the children wore suits. And the dogs. He was suddenly transported back to the day his boss had warned him to wear a suit jacket. Certainly it would help him fit in.

"Okay, apartment 130B, thirteenth floor." Lindsay started as she began to assemble a stack of paperwork. When she was done, she placed the stack in a glossy black folder before placing it in front of him with a smile, and placed a small white envelope with a key inside of it on top of it all. "The company's housing department has taken care of most of the paperwork for you and the first month of rent has been taken care of. But we do need payment information from you as well as more personal details and past residential information as requested in these forms Also, there are a few things in the packet your boss included in the packet for you to reference."

"Excellent. Are you gonna need these back tonight or-."

"Within the next three days would be best." she said kindly and he nodded.

"Anything else I need to know? Fire escapes? Code words to communicate with the big guy out there? Weekly suit quotas?" he half joked and Lindsay laughed.

"No, you're all set, Mr. Evans. Welcome to Tower 47," she replied sweetly. Sam thanked her then rushed towards the elevators at the wall behind him when he saw his bellboy stepping inside of one of them.

The condo was nothing short of fantastic. The windows were large, long, and placed more frequently around than Sam was used to. The walls were painted a simple white, the very tops of them lined with the same gray as the walls in the lobby. There were various large generic black and white pictures on the wall-a couple of the city and its lights, and a few of places in countries he didn't recognize. His suit case rolled noisily against the black hardwood floors beneath him as he passed a collection of two black bookcases just as he entered the living room. There he found a double cushioned suede black sofa, decorated with deep blue throw pillows. Beside it, there was a black, white, and gray patterned accent chair and just in front of the chairs, on top of the square solid gray rug, there was black ottoman, suede like the sofa. As he moved in further, he could see a flat screen TV that looked to be about 72 inches on the wall and his eyes widened on sight of it.

"Holy shit," he mumbled. Almost simultaneously, there was the sound of a throat clearing and Sam was reminded he wasn't alone. He turned around quickly to face the bellhop behind him, taking his wallet out of his back pocket at the same time. "Right," he breathed as he dug through his wallet, pulling out a twenty dollar bill. "Thanks a lot-," he paused, reading the man's name tag. "-Robert." he finished, handing him the tip with a smile. The man grinned gratefully.

"Pleasure," he replied simply before heading back out the door. Sam turned back to his new place, his gaze falling on the luxurious square glass dining room table just behind the living room, the legs black and wooden, twisting into sustainable X. The chairs were black leather. Next he examined the kitchen, all black besides the gray on the counter-tops. It was understated, but fashionable. The refrigerator was quite large and Sam couldn't imagine what he would do with a kitchen as spacious as this one. In the middle of it, there was an island with a selection of pots, pans, and cooking utensils hanging above it.

He found his bedroom next. These walls were black and made of giant tile. The bed was almost wooden and low, the bedspreads a simple deep blue, decorated with black pillows. Above the bed there was a long picture of the city from high above ground. There was a pattern of pictures of the city around the apartment-almost as if they thought he might forget where he lived. Among all these rooms, there were two full bathrooms and an office. It was a real home for a real adult. It made him feel like he was nineteen again and he was visiting place where he could only one day hope to live.

Nineteen year old Sam would be proud. And so would his father.

That night when he had unpacked most of his clothing, he lay comfortably in his bed, scrolling through his contacts to find his mother. She'd changed her phone number three times in the last month in an attempt to keep herself safe. His father's law firm was working on a very high profile case. It wasn't rare that she would receive death threats. He scrolled and scrolled, almost mindlessly after a while. His mind was suddenly completely alert though when he saw _her _name.

Mercedes.

It wasn't like it was unexpected that he'd run into her name.

_Mother._

_Mercedes._

It made sense. But still, his body responded as if it had been a surprise. He thought for a moment, knowing full well that she could be anywhere in this city-even next door. What he didn't know is if he should do something about it.

He decided not to and instead willed himself to scroll a little further until he found his mother's number and called it to let her know he'd settled in.

He didn't hear from Nicole that night, which he decided he deserved.

The condo was very quiet, almost eerily. So just after he showered and rolled into bed, he turned on the music on his phone, careful to exclude the play-list he'd labeled _Mercedes _years ago. The one she'd put together before they'd moved in different directions to remind him of her.

The one he still couldn't bring himself to delete.

The next morning after less than five hours of sleep, he skipped breakfast because he was too excited and because he hadn't actually gone grocery shopping yet. He used that extra time to shape his short but growing facial hair a bit and properly press his black suit. He had the strongest of urges to ditch the jacket and just wear the shirt and tie-just for the sake of rebellion. But it was his first day. He figured he could give them at least one day to warm up to him. His _second _day, he decided, would be more appropriate.

Outside he successfully hailed a cab and hopped inside.

"Jacobs and Dorsey on," Sam paused as he looked at the directions on his phone.

"82nd?" the cab driver suggested and Sam nodded quickly as he looked up.

"Exactly," he replied through an appreciative smile and the cab driver nodded as he took off. Sam set his gaze outside the window, watching the people walking and the buildings as he rode.

"New around here?" the cab driver suddenly asked.

"Why do you ask that?" Sam retorted curiously as he looked up at the man in the mirror. The cab driver chuckled softly and Sam's brows furrowed.

"Because _this_," the driver began as he brought the car to a complete stop. "Is Jacobs and Dorsey," he finished. Sam's eyes narrowed as he turned to look out the window again. And it was true. Less than two minutes, and he was already sitting in front of his new workplace. It made sense then why they had placed him in those condos and why there were so many suits in the building. He guessed they possibly owned the building. He thought then that he should _really_ finish reading the packets.

"That'll be four dollars and ten cents," the driver announced. Sam chuckled as he shook his head, taking his wallet out and retrieving a five dollar bill.

"You could've told me I could walk," Sam said as he handed him the money. The driver chuckled again as he took the money.

"Where's the fun in that?" he replied simply. "Have a great day," he continued and Sam only continued to shake his head as he got out of the cab.

Inside, the building was almost identical to that of the one in San Diego, only much larger. Sam read the email on his phone as he walked, finding the sender's-his new boss'-name on the bottom and then asked the nearest employee where he could find him. The man quickly directed him to the eighth floor and Sam made his way to the elevators.

Once the doors swung open, there was a clear cut and long path between the cubicles that led to a wall of offices, the largest being the boss'. He knew because his name was printed in gigantic letters across the glass window of it.

_Thomas Westfield. _

Sam walked confidently towards the office, smiling and greeting the men and women who seemed to be eyeing him as if they knew him. When he reached the glass office, he saw a man who looked to be only a few years older than him, his hair dark and short, his nose sharp and his lips thin as he spoke on the phone at his desk. Sam thought maybe he was in the wrong place or maybe his assistant was playing boss until the young man waved him in with an almost confused look on his face. Shortly after he entered, Thomas hung up the phone and stood to shake Sam's hand.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked and Sam wondered where the greeting was in that statement.

"I'm not exactly sure how to answer that," Sam replied through a chuckle.

"Sam Evans, right?" Thomas confirmed as he scratch the stubble on the bottom of his chin and Sam nodded.

"That's correct,"

"Well, Sam Evans, you're not scheduled to be here for another week." Thomas told him and Sam's eyes narrowed.

"I thought I was supposed to start this we-,"

"You were supposed to _move _this week. Didn't you read the packet?" Thomas interrupted, moving around his desk to lean on the front of it. _I should really finish the packet_. Sam thought.

"How that's going anyway? The moving? You look tired." Thomas noted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I didn't get much sleep, I guess." Sam admitted and Thomas' eyes narrowed as he examined him.

"Yeah, _tired_'s an understatment. You look dead. Why don't you get out of here? Get settled in, alright?" he said as he moved back around his desk and took a seat in his chair, clicking something on his computer. "Your office won't be ready until next Monday anyway."

"Office?" Sam repeated, the whole conversation confusing him. _How old is this dude? _He wondered.

"Oh come on, I know they told you you'd be getting an office." Thomas almost laughed.

"Not really. They kinda just shipped me off and here I am. At your disposal." Sam replied.

"In one week you are. Get outta here, you look dead. Get some sleep and then go see the city." Thomas said and Sam chuckled as he warmed to his new boss.

"Monday, then." Sam said as he shook his hand once more.

"_Monday_," Thomas half sang and Sam smiled as he headed for the door.

Sam walked leisurely down the road back to his apartment building, passing clusters of people in suits on the way and he decided right then that he needed to change if he was going to take his boss' advice and see the city.. At the door he gave a nod and a salute to the security guard at the door who promptly ignored him as he opened the door for him and Sam only chuckled as he shook his head.

Upstairs, he changed quickly into a pair of khaki denim pants and a sky blue button up shirt with cuffed sleeves. Just as he sat on the bed, slipping on a pair of socks, a wave of sleep hit him and he was reminded that he'd woken up at five in the morning after going to sleep at almost two. Yawning, he looked at his watch and found it to be almost seven. He turned to eye the pillows behind him and his decision was easy.

A nap was in order.

Sam woke with a growling stomach and a hunger headache and that was when he remembered he had yet to go grocery shopping. He quickly brushed his teeth, not bothering to even straighten his bed hair before he stepped into his shoes and headed for the door. Lindsay at the front desk directed him to the nearest grocery store just two miles north and he figured he could walk it. It would give him a chance to see his new home after all. After a while he entered an area that was slightly more urban. There was graffiti on a many of the building walls and a smell that sort of transported him back to his cab ride in.

But, there were no _suits._

He turned left on the corner that Lindsay had instructed him and just as he did, he saw her.

_Her._

She was far away, walking across the street a half a mile ahead but he _knew _it was her. Before he could think, he was taking off-running and calling her name, his body alive with something he hadn't felt in years. Car horns beeped loudly at him and cruel words were shouted but he didn't care. It was _her._

"Mercedes!" he called louder as the girl continued to walk and when he was finally close, she turned slowly around, and a face he didn't recognize and eyes he didn't know looked back at him. His lips parted just a bit in shock before he closed his mouth and began to back away, the car horns sounding off at him once again.

"Sorry," he muttered to the visibly confused stranger as he moved away, heading back towards the grocery store in defeat.

It hadn't been her. And maybe he should've been relieved instead of disappointed. It could've made for an awkward situation. But all he could think about as he entered the store was the feeling that had taken him over at even the thought of being so close to her again. And he craved to feel it again. So he decided then, despite his better judgment.

He needed to see her.

MERCEDES POV

Monday mornings were hell.

She'd woken up almost twenty minutes late which meant she wouldn't have time for coffee, which meant she wouldn't have energy or patience-which meant she would be a dragon in a black skirt.

Which meant Mondays were _hell_.

When she arrived to work, in her red pumps she rushed to the elevator and pressed three, her eyes on her watch the whole way up. Reaching her floor, she stepped out and made a sharp left towards her office, stopping to grab her mail out of the mail room before heading to her office again, greeting her coworkers as sweetly as she could. Roaming through her mail, she continued to walk, leaving a soft knock on the side of the threshold of her co-worker Stephanie's office door as a greeting before continuing. The sound of her name stopped her in her tracks.

"Mercedes!" Stephanie almost shouted.

"Hmm?" she replied, noncommittal as she stood at the door of her friend's office, eyeing an envelope from a company she swore never to work with again. She heard Stephanie's chair pull back and then the sound of her heels against the floor as she came towards hers.

"Two things, Mercedes," Stephanie paused, her Hispanic and Brooklyn accent strong. Mercedes' eyebrows lifted as she looked at her co-worker, her long flawless black hair pulled back into a high pony tail that reached far down her back. "One," Stephanie began again, "some white guy with incredible lips came by and dropped this off for you." she said, handing Mercedes a beautiful single blue-ish purple orchid and a medium sized purple gift box with a purple ribbon tied around it. Mercedes' eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "And two, can I have him because you know how I feel about lips-you _know_." Stephanie finished and Mercedes laughed, shaking her head as she looked at the flower and the box in her hand.

"What are you talking abo-," and then she realized, her eyes stretching open as she stopped mid-sentence. But it couldn't be. _He _couldn't be there. _Could he_?

"Mercedes?" Stephanie called.

"Just give me a sec, okay?" she replied, her thoughts scrambled as she rushed to her office, closing the door behind her. Standing with her back against the frosted glass door, her eyes darted across her office in something like excitement, maybe disguised as panic. She moved quickly across the room to sit in the red executive chair behind her glossy black goggle desk. Placing the mail, the single purple orchid and the purple gift box on her desk, she sat back in her chair and examined the box curiously, almost as if it were a bomb that was meant to be disarmed with great care.

_Sam Evans._

Something stung her to her core at the very thought of the name. It had been almost six years since she'd seen him. Still, no amount of time had been enough to wipe away the memories she'd shared with him. A love so epic and all consuming-a love that failed, just as she'd feared it would. A love that when it was severed, stole her sleep away, shattered her heart, and made a constant river out of her two eyes for almost an entire year. A love that changed her life forever.

A tragic love.

A beautiful love.

In the first two years after they ended it, they'd communicated often and most days it caused more pain than happiness because no matter how much they called and texted, it didn't bring them any closer to each other. San Diego was still thousands of miles away from New York and their schedules were still so overwhelmingly hectic. Their communication after they'd broken up only served as a reminder of what they couldn't do-make it work. So with time, they talked less and less until they didn't talk at all-their only knowledge of each other consisted of ambiguous Twitter updates from the other. It was a necessary pain-and it was _painful_. But with time, she was able to go a few more days without thinking too heavily of him. And she couldn't have been more thankful for time and it's healing powers. Getting over Sam had been the great storm of her life. And she hadn't drowned.

But now she was struggling to breathe. She mentally struck herself as she continued to stare at the box and the flower before her.

"Just open it," she said quietly, pushing a loose strand of her curly black hair behind her ear. And with one last deep breath, she reached for the box and quickly untied the purple bow, tossing it onto the floor before pulling the top off of the box. When she looked inside, her eyes beheld a small bag of white rice. Her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes narrowed as she looked at it. Beneath it, she could see a piece of paper peeking out. Quickly, she took the bag out of the box and with her other hand she picked up the white piece of notepad paper. Her heart stopped at the sight of his hand writing before her brain could even comprehend the words.

It was really him.

She didn't need to see his name on the note to know that. But she read it anyway.

_R.I.C.E._

_Saw this at the grocery store while I was shopping for my new apartment in __NYC __and I thought of you and that lesson you skipped in health class. Remember?_

_Hoping for a tour around my new city soon. _

_-Sam E. _

And that was when she decided that she hadn't actually woken up this morning and this was all dream that she wished she didn't want to be real.

Mondays.

Mondays were _hell_.

**This chapter was focused a lot more on Sam and what he's been up to since the break up, as you may have noticed. Expect a lot more Mercedes the next chapter. Hope you enjoyed! Leave your thoughts!**


	3. Chapter 2

Hi, guys. First, I wanna say I'm really sorry about this ridiculously long hiatus. I've dealt with a lot over these months in my personal life and with my health. And I am also taking 18 credits this semester. So needless to say, I've had a lot more stress than time. One of the biggest issues though is that I started attributing some of that stress to writing instead of using it as a way to relieve stress the way I used to. I recently regained the ability to do that though and I plan to use it for this story and my book. So here's an update that I hope you all love. Thank you for your patience.

MERCEDES' POV

"Mercedes?" Stephanie called. She looked up from the note in her hand quickly then, realizing only then that she had spaced out. Her friend slash co-worker was walking cautiously into her office then, taking a seat at the chair just in front of Mercedes' desk. "Who is he?" she asked. Mercedes shook her head, looking down at her desk as tears swelled in her eyes.

"He used to be-," she shook her head again, words lost to her, "everything," she said after a while.

As she told Stephanie their epic love story, she felt everything at once-all the things she'd ever felt for him collided and exploded within her and then all at once, disappeared. And she was left with one last thing that felt distinctly like fear.

Sam Evans was in New York City. And he wanted to see her.

It was a dream come true, wrapped in a nightmare. The problem was that, she had spent the first year after they'd broken up trying to breathe without him. And she'd spent the last five years creating and leading a life that didn't involve him. A life where she didn't need him. She wasn't sure how quickly all her hard work would go down the drain once she saw him again.

For the rest of the day at work, she thought in constant circles because all she wanted was to not think about him but every single thought she had led her brain directly to an image of his face, to the sound of his laugh, to his scent-to him.

She was in trouble. She was in so much trouble.

At home she flopped down on her couch, her thoughts scrambled. She sat in silence as her mind raced, only coming back to earth when her phone suddenly rang. She didn't think she had even blinked for the last ten minutes.

"Hey, Alicia," she said, having read the caller ID.

"Hey, lady, whatcha doing?" her best friend replied, and Mercedes didn't quite understand why even the sound of her voice made her think of him.

Before she could form a response, she began to cry instead.

"Mercedes?" Alicia called, her voice suddenly solemn. Mercedes covered her mouth for a moment as she continued to cry.

"Sam is in New York," she said after a while, hating the sound of her voice drenched in sobs. Alicia was quiet for a moment before finally speaking.

"I know,"

Mercedes froze for a moment and then sat up straight on her couch.

"You-you know? What do you mean, you know?"

"I just found out today, 'Cedes, I promise. Devon told me, and I-,"

"Is that why you called me?" she asked, misplaced anger coating her voice.

"No, I call you almost everyday, that's not fair." Alicia said, her voice remaining soft. Mercedes didn't say anything for a while, her thoughts still jumbled. "Why are you crying, Mercedes?" Alicia asked, breaking the silence.

"I don't know," she said.

"Yes, you do."

"Fine, I do," Mercedes said. "I loved him, Alicia."

"I know."

"I never thought I would get married but, I wanted to marry him."

"I know."

"You know how bad it was when it ended, too. How hard it was for me to accept it," she said.

"I do," Alicia said, "I remember you would call me and and I'd have to distract you, convince you not to call him." she went on. Mercedes folded her lips in, blocking the sobs that were surging up her throat because she remembered, too. She remembered the overwhelming urge to call him swallowing her whole. It would happen at any time of the day-but it was most painful at night, when she was in bed, battling constant bouts of excruciating restlessness that she thought could only be soothed and cured if his arms were around her again. She remembered waking up with eyes so swollen from crying she could barely open them. She remembered everything.

Once the sobs had gone back down, she shook her head and began to speak again;

"He sent me a stupid gift and a note," she said.

"What did it say?"

"He wants to get together," Mercedes told her. She heard her best friend sigh.

"Do you wanna see him?" she asked. The answer that came to her mind immediately was yes. Of course she did. But everything in her told her it wasn't sensible.

"I'm with Luke,"

"So?" Alicia said.

"So?" Mercedes repeated.

"You've known each other for a long time, Mercedes. Now you're gonna live in the same city as him and just pretend he doesn't exist? Can't even be friends?"

"I haven't stopped thinking about him for almost twelve hours. I can't be his friend."

"You haven't stopped thinking about Sam from six years ago." Alicia said. "He could turn out to be completely different, you might not even like him enough to be in the same damn room as him let alone have feelings for him," Alicia said. Mercedes smiled, moving to lay down on her side on the couch. The thought was comforting, but implausible. She couldn't imagine a scenario where she didn't even like Sam Evans. But she knew her best friend was right. Six years was a long time, and just because all the memories they shared had stayed the same, didn't mean that he had. She thought then that the least she could do was show him around. But as she suddenly regained her appetite, her first order of business quickly became eating dinner. She would call him.

Soon.

SAM'S POV

"Sam?"  
The sound of his name on her lips was the first red flag.

Or rather, the effect it had on him. She'd called him at around noon on Thursday, days after he'd sent her the package. He'd spent those days wondering if he'd said something wrong, if she'd lost his number, if she even cared to see him. A million different possibilities for why she hadn't responded swirled in his mind and none of them provided anything even similar to relief.

So when he'd answer the call of an unknown New York phone number, he'd been expecting it to be his new boss or someone from the office. But instead, her voice had come through the speaker, and it coursed through his entire body, leaving him speechless for a moment, and tickling the corners of mouth until they gave in, and a smile that he couldn't control spread across his lips.

"Hi," he said, and he'd hardly managed it. She was quiet for a moment and Sam wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Hey," she said, finally. And that was when he realized he'd been holding his breath.

She'd invited him to meet her at a restaurant near her job for lunch and he'd been ready to say yes to anything she said the moment she'd called.

He got there first, grabbing a table for two at the Italian restaurant she'd texted him the address to. He could feel his heart beating fast as he waited. He was about to see Mercedes Jones again.

And the thought alone brought on a whirlwind of feelings that he could honestly say he hadn't been expecting. He wondered, as he waited, if he had ever actually stopped missing sound of heels clacking against the floor made him look up from the menu.

The first thing he did when he saw her was absolutely nothing. He couldn't move. And then he stood from his chair quickly, straightening his blue button up shirt. Just as he stood, her eyes landed on him and that was the second red flag-when it felt like someone had installed a new light bulb in his mind, brightening all the darkest corners of his brain that he hadn't visited since they'd broken up, and his breathing became deep and slow. No words escaped either of them, and before he even knew it was happening, he was wrapping his arms around her.

Her scent was intoxicating, even more so than before.

And that was the third red flag-when he realized he didn't want to let her go.

But he did, moving quickly to pull her chair out for her and she smiled, looking up at him and shaking her head as she sat down.

"Southern hospitality," she said as he sat down.

"You look beautiful," he told her, because he couldn't help it.

"Thank you," she grinned, looking him in the eyes. And he felt like his heart stopped for a moment. Within a minute after they'd sat down, a waitress with red hair and a freckled face named Krista approached them, taking their drink orders and then walking away, giving them time to think about their meals.

"Before we order anything else I wanna go ahead and get one thing straight," Sam said once Krista was gone.

"What's that?"

"I will be paying for your lunch," he told her and she laughed shortly and sarcastically.

"I'll be here when you wake up from that dream," she told him.

"I don't even wanna see your wallet, Mercedes."

"Yeah, we'll see about that," she replied and he smiled. They were quiet for a moment then, both of them gazing at each other for much too long. "What?" she finally spoke, her voice suddenly softer.

"I just can't believe I'm looking at you right now," he said, sitting up in his chair, his head propped up on bent elbow and his eyes focused intently on her. She looked down at the menu then, but he saw the way the smile she was hiding lifted her cheeks. She shrugged.

"Well, you are." she half chuckled, and the sound itself made his heartbeat quicken.

"You look beautiful," he told her. She shook her head. "Did I already tell you that?"

"You did," she said.

"Sorry," he almost laughed, sitting back in his chair, his hands falling on his lap.

"It's okay," she replied softly, shaking her head. "It's really good to see you,"

"Are you kidding me? Seeing you is-good doesn't cut it," he told her. And she playfully rolled her eyes.

"Still a constant flirt," she said and he scoffed and laughed all at once. "You can't help it," she added.

"You're absolutely right," he admitted, "but I don't think any man sitting where I'm sitting right now would behave any differently,"

"You did it again," she said through a giggle.

"Okay-alright," he replied. "I'll try to control myself,"

"We'll see how that goes."

"I see your level of faith in people is still at about negative fifty," he said, looking at his menu.

"People still haven't done much to deserve it,"

"I'll be happy to change that," he replied, looking up at her.

"How?"

"By not flirting with you, remember?"

"Hmph," she breathed, looking down at her menu, clearly fighting a smile as he remembered she so often did. He shook his head as he grinned. She was so beautiful.

"Are you ready to order?" Krista suddenly asked.

"Um, yes, I'll have the small chicken salad. No croutons or cheese. And I'd like the vinaigrette instead of the dressing, please?" Mercedes said.

"Sure thing, and for you, sir?"

"I'll have the chicken parmesan with ziti, please. Thank you," he said. He wondered if she would remember that that was the first thing she'd ever cooked for him.

"Okay, I'll get your orders right in," Krista told them, taking their menus, giving them a generic smile and then flouncing away. He looked at Mercedes then and frowned slightly.

"Are you not hungry? We could've gone for coffee-,"

"No, it's not that. I'm just-on a diet," she said. His head snapped back slowly then and his eyebrows furrowed.

"A what?"

"You heard me," she retorted and he chuckled a little.

"I hope I didn't," he replied, looking curiously at her.

"What does that mean?" she asked, her eyes narrowed.

"I don't know, I just-why?"

"Because,"

"Because?" he waited. And when she finally spoke, it was explosive.

"Because I can be, Sam. Alright, which part of that seems like it's your business at all?" she snapped.

"Mercedes-,"

"You know what," she interrupted him, "I should go." And then in what seemed like seconds, she pulled out her wallet, placed the appropriate amount of money on the table and left.

Alright before you guys get mad about the weight loss trope that everybody hates for Mercedes, just know that I also hate it and that is not the point of this arc. You'll understand why it's really important as the story goes on. SO what's up with Mercedes, guys? Leave your thoughts! 3


	4. Chapter 2 Part 2

**Sorry the chapters are short. With my schedule, I just have to post whenever I can otherwise I'll keep you guys waiting forever. **

MERCEDES' POV

She knew she needed to leave the moment he put his arms around her.

The very moment that he touched her, it felt as if every cell in her body migrated to surface, wanting to _feel _what they hadn't felt in six years.

So no matter what it took, she needed to leave.

Sitting across from him, his eyes burning into her and his smile sending a chill to her spine-it all made her want to duck and cover. He looked amazing-age had treated him tremendously well and she hated how she remembered every detail of his face.

What was worse was hearing him call her beautiful. She'd heard the compliment countless times before from countless people, always making her smile as she provided a genuine "thank you". But when _he _said it, the words crept beneath her skin and danced in her brain. It was different. It had always been different with him.

He hadn't followed her and she was glad. Once she was in her car, she sent a quick text to Alicia.

_He's still Sam. _

And then she drove back to work with every intention of pretending like none of it had happened. As she sat at her desk, reviewing a few sketches she'd received from the design department, a knock came to her door followed by Stephanie peeking her head through.

"Come in, Steph," Mercedes said. The bronze skinned woman approached Mercedes' desk with a small smile on her lips.

"Hey, I just wanted to remind you about the meeting tomorrow. With Glamour Magazine?

"Oh, right, yes. I have the list of items we have to present for the spread. Just have to forward it to Wardrobe,"

"Great," Stephanie said, nodding afterwards. And then she stood there for a moment, her gaze set on Mercedes and Mercedes' eyes narrowed.

"Is there something else, Steph?" Mercedes asked, knowing that there was. And then Stephanie exhaled as if she gave up and she flopped down onto the chair in front of Mercedes' desk.

"Do I have to yank it out of you? How was lunch?" she wondered. Mercedes swallowed, averting her eyes for a moment before looking at her friend again.

"It was-fast,"

"Fast? As in _fast food_? I've never seen you eat fast foo-,"

"No, of course not."

"Okay, _so_?" Stephanie tugged.

"I mean it was just over-fast. We didn't talk much. It was," she shook her head, "weird."

"Did you feel anything?"

"No," Mercedes chuckled out, knowing it was a lie the moment she said it.

"Oh," Stephanie said, "Well, that's good, isn't it? Your best friend was right, see. You've got nothing to worry about. "

"Yeah. I guess so." she lied again.

"It's a relief, right? I mean at least now you know you're really over him. I was scared for Luke for a second," she laughed and Mercedes joined shortly after in a laugh that she didn't mean at all.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Yeah, it's a relief."

Work dragged on for the rest of the day and all she wanted was to go home, go to sleep and wake up in a world where this wasn't really happening. But when she did get home, she was there for less than ten minutes, barely settled in, before a knock came to her door. She'd been sitting at the edge of her bed still fully clothed, her mind roaming, when the sound startled her. Everything in her believed that it was him at her door-he had no idea where she lived, to her knowledge, and yet she was still convinced as she walked to the front door that it was him. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she swallowed, standing on her tip toes to look into the peephole. And when she opened the door, a smile pulled across the lips of the man standing before her when he saw her, exposing his white teeth that contrasted nicely with his dark skin.

"Luke," she said, her heart returning to its normal pace as she offered a smile back. He bent to kiss her softly on the cheek as he walked in, his dark stubble scratching against her skin.

"Expecting someone else?" he asked as she closed the door. She followed him to the kitchen, trying to convince herself that she wasn't slightly disappointed.

"Of course not-just wasn't expecting you either," she replied, watching as he placed the plastic bags from Magiello's on the island counter.

"I called your office today at lunch but you weren't in," he said, both of his large hands flat on the counter, watching her with his brown eyes.

"Uh, yeah," she began, moving to stand on the opposite side of the counter, just across from him. "I went out for lunch with co-workers," she lied.

"_Oh_," he nodded, staring at her for a moment longer before another smile pulled his high cheekbones up. "Well I figured I'd bring you dinner from your favorite place," he said, taking the containers from the bag. She smiled as she looked at him, grateful for how good he was to her. But when he looked up, he flinched a little.

"Babe, don't stare," he said and she rolled her eyes as he walked away with the two plates in hand. She didn't say anything, only followed him quietly, sitting down at the chair where he placed her food.

"Grilled chicken for both of us," he told her as he sat down. She tried to mirror the smile he was offering her as she opened the container, attempting with all her might not to think about Sam.

"How was your day?" he asked.

"Uh, great. It was great. How was yours?" she replied, forking some of her food.

"Same old, same old. Can't complain," he said, giving her a grin as he chewed.

"Are you all packed for tomorrow?" she asked him.

"Yeah, all set. I might've left a pair of my shoes in your room though,"

"The black ones? Yeah, you did," she chuckled lightly, "Always forgetting something,"

"Not _always_," he smiled.

"Almost always,"

"_Mercedes_," he said and she grinned.

"How long's the trip this time?" she asked.

"A week if we get it right the first time. This company is known for being difficult to negotiate with." he said and Mercedes nodded. Just as she was about to speak, her phone vibrated loudly on the table next to her plate. Looking at the screen only revealed that it was a text from Sam.

"Phones at the table again?" Luke said.

"I forgot," she mumbled, moving her phone to her lap.

"Don't worry," he smiled, but it didn't reach it eyes. "Another picture of Avery from Alicia?" he asked, looking down at his salad and moving it around with his fork.

"Looks like," she lied, realizing then that she had been doing that often. Quickly turning off the screen, she returned to her food.

That night Luke slept over and went to bed early like he often did, with Mercedes awake next to him. She wanted her brain to shut off but she couldn't make it, she couldn't make her thoughts stop racing because that message was still sitting on her phone. With a sudden rush of courage she reached over to the end table and grabbed her phone, unlocking it and clicking on his message.

"Babe?" Luke's sleepy voice called, and Mercedes had only enough time to read the very first word-a simple _hi_-before she was busted. She turned off her phone screen and quickly placed it on the table again.

"Just making sure my alarm is on for tomorrow," she said, lying down again and deciding it was for the best that she hadn't read the message. Luke wrapped his strong arms around her protectively, soft snoring ensuing moments afterwards. She closed her eyes, taking a slow breath before releasing it quietly, wondering when resting peacefully in her boyfriend's arms had become impossible.

And in the morning, Luke was gone, with his shoes, before she woke.

She trudged into work the next morning, exhaustion heavy on her shoulders. Sleep had not been kind to her the night before. Flopping down at her chair behind her desk, she pressed her head in the back of it, sighing loudly. She sort of hated this day already and she wasn't exactly sure why until she remembered that she had a meeting with the magazine in three hours. She sat up quickly then, opening her email to review the list once more before sending it to wardrobe so they could finish their final preparations. She was just about to search for it with the "find email" option when she glanced at the very top of her inbox, finding an email from an _sevans,_ with its subject reading, _I Didn't Realize You Were Too Cool for Texting_. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in and shaking her head. And then she opened her eyes and the message.

_Mercedes,_

_First things first, I'm sorry about yesterday. It's crazy knowing that it's been six years and we're both probably completely different people now. But you're right, what you eat and really everything else about you is none of my business anymore. Hasn't been for a while. It's pretty clear we got off on the wrong foot. Again. And if I weren't in a city I know nothing about and you weren't the only person I know here, I would try my hardest to leave you alone. Considering it's probably for the best. I would fail, more than likely. But I'd try at least. However, since that is not the case, I'm gonna have to bug you a little more, if that's alright? Still up for that tour? _

_Sam Evans_

_Associate Marketing Director _

_Jacobs and Dorsey_

_Why is it for the best? _It had been her first thought and she wasn't particularly happy with herself for it. She looked around after reading the message, as if someone was there watching her, and then she looked at the time. She had almost the full three hours until the meeting, but she needed to review the list. She exhaled loudly, reading the email again before deciding she could multitask.

_How did you get my email address?_

_Mercedes Jones_

_Head of Merchandising &amp; Design_

_Fashion at Berkeley &amp; co._

After she hit send, she searched for the list quickly and then got to work, checking off on each item as she went down the list. Ten minutes passed with no response and she'd been trying her best not to refresh the page. When her computer finally sounded, notifying her of another email, she returned to her inbox quickly, opening the email.

_You didn't text me back so I googled you. Also you should consider turning off the "read" indicator on your text messages. Kind of hurt my feelings. _

_Sam Evans_

_Associate Marketing Director _

_Jacobs and Dorsey_

She smiled, shaking her head as she read the message. When the smile reached the corners of her eyes, she caught herself, straightening her face and clearing her throat.

_What gives you the impression that I care about your feelings?_

_Mercedes Jones_

_Head of Merchandising &amp; Design_

_Fashion at Berkeley &amp; co._

His response was quick this time. As if he'd been waiting.

_Getting cruel in your old age, Jones. _

_Sam Evans_

_Associate Marketing Director _

_Jacobs and Dorsey_

Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open as she read it, a laugh slash scoff escaping her.

_You can't even imagine how much you've just upped the chances of getting that tour you asked for._

_Mercedes Jones_

_Head of Merchandising &amp; Design_

_Fashion at Berkeley &amp; co._

Another swift response;

_In case you were wondering, your sarcasm translates perfectly through email. _

_Sam Evans_

_Associate Marketing Director _

_Jacobs and Dorsey_

She hadn't realized the smile was back until she caught a glimpse of herself in the little mirror she had sitting on her desk. She blinked at herself, the smile falling slowly.

"What are you doing?" she asked her reflection, but just before she could form a response, her computer sounded as another email came in.

_Is tomorrow okay? _

_Sam Evans_

_Associate Marketing Director _

_Jacobs and Dorsey_

She sat back in her chair, her hands falling in her lap. She wanted to _want _to say no. But she couldn't access one corner of her mind that didn't want to say yes.

_No flirting. _

_Mercedes Jones_

_Head of Merchandising &amp; Design_

_Fashion at Berkeley &amp; co._

SAM'S POV

His first instinct had been to follow her out of the restaurant, but just as he stood, pulling his wallet from his pocket, his phone began to ring in his other pocket. He dug for it quickly, retrieving it and looking at the screen.

_Nicole._

He hadn't actually spoken to her the entire week, just a few small texts conversations, nothing more. And he guessed if he were anywhere else in the world besides the city that he and Mercedes now shared, he would have been thinking about his "_girlfriend_" a bit more than he actually had been. But the truth was, if ever there was a battle in his mind between his thoughts of Mercedes and his thoughts of Nicole, he knew the conqueror would always remain the same.

And it wasn't the woman whose name was currently on his phone.

"Hey, Nicole," he said as he answered, picking up the twenty dollar bill Mercedes had left on the table and replacing it instead with a fifty of his own.

"Hi Sam," she replied. "Good to hear your voice," she continued. And he nodded, looking at the empty seat Mercedes had abandoned as he stuffed her twenty dollars into his back pocket.

"Yours, too." he said, which wasn't completely a lie.

"I was hoping we could talk,"

"About?" he asked, giving the confused waiter a simple head nod as he walked past him and towards the front door.

"About me possibly coming to visit," she said, as if it were a question. He froze just outside of the restaurant, New York city busily flying past him in the form of pedestrians and cars alike. He blinked. "Sam?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, lifting his hand to wave down an approaching taxi. "When did you wanna do that?" he asked her, hating himself for hoping she wouldn't say some time soon as he slid into the taxi. "Tower 47," he muttered to the driver, who gave him a quick nod before heading off.

"Next month-maybe? I've been thinking," she paused.

"Yeah?"

"I don't know, just that-maybe we shouldn't, you know, maybe we should just, I don't know...try."

"_Nicole_," he said.

"I know, Sam. I know how you feel about this and I know you're discouraged about it-but how do we know unless we just try?" she said. Sam didn't respond, his thoughts roaming to Mercedes much too quickly. He'd had his arms around her just twenty minutes ago, and nothing had felt like that in a long time. And now here he was, on the phone with a woman who he knew he _should _love-who deserved to be loved by him and who loved him.

And wasn't sure he wanted to try.

"I just think we should maybe _be _long distance for a little bit. I just got here and already you want to come and-,"

"I miss you," she interrupted.

"I know," he said, glancing at the taxi driver who seemed to be immersed in the Reggae music playing on the radio, "but we don't even know what it's like to be long distance yet and if we're gonna," he paused to choose his words more carefully, "if we're gonna try this, I think we should give it few months, test it out."

"So you don't want me to come and visit?"

"I-I do. I just think we haven't even given ourselves time to see what long distance is like. We would have to get used it if we were going to do this," he explained. She was quiet for a moment and what bothered him more than anything was the fact that he wasn't sure if any of his words had been sincere.

There was a woman on his phone, pouring her heart out to him, expressing just how much she wanted to be with him. And his thoughts were almost entirely elsewhere. He found himself ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. He'd been in a room with Mercedes for fifteen minutes before she decided she didn't want to be near him anymore and yet he still couldn't think about anything except being near her.

"Okay," Nicole said, suddenly and Sam swallowed.

"Alright," he said. "I'm headed downtown," he lied, "Talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay," she replied and then she was quiet, and he knew she was waiting for him to say something they both knew he wouldn't.

He hung up.

**Leave your thoughts!**


	5. Chapter 3: Oh

**:)**

MERCEDES' POV

Mercedes woke up with a knot in her stomach that she couldn't shake. She leaned over to her night stand and picked up her phone, finding text messages from two men who both knew nothing about the other.

The message from Luke was a simple, "_Good morning, beautiful. Enjoy your Saturday_,"

She smiled as she read it, her stomach beginning to relax as she wrote a quick reply. Moving on to the next message, the knot in her stomach grew again, tighter this time and she had half a mind to turn her phone screen off, ignore the message from Sam and the plans they had together that day all together. But she drew in a few deep, slow breaths, and thought better of it. The breathing didn't make her stomach feel much better but she opened the message nonetheless.

_Meet me here at 11_. _Sneakers might be a good idea._

A jumble of coordinates followed the last sentence and the mystery they held behind them made the knots in her stomach turn. Suddenly she moved to lie on her back, her eyes on the ceiling. Then she shut them tight and counted to ten—a method her mother had taught her when she was eight years old.

_Close your eyes and count to ten. And when you open them again, the monster will be gone. But you have to close them tight, okay?_

Sam wasn't a monster, per se. And she didn't necessarily want him _gone_. But for a long time, he had been gone—they both had been. This time last week, their relationship had been but a memory in her head. Now all the memories they ever made together were back and knocking hard on the walls of her mind, threatening to overtake the life she had in the present. So they were the monsters. And if it weren't for them, getting out of bed and getting prepared for the tour wouldn't seem so hard to her. She needed to count.

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5—_

The sound of her phone chiming interrupted her and her eyes shot open. She sighed loudly before picking her phone up from her stomach and finding another message from Luke.

_I miss you. _

A wave of guilt fell over her as she read it and before she could even respond, another message from him came through—

_Up to no good today? :P _

Her stomach dropped.

_I really hope _not, she thought. Swallowing, she dropped her phone down on her stomach and laid down flat again. Then she shut her eyes tight.

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7…_

* * *

The counting hadn't worked but a single shot of vodka with her breakfast might have done the trick. She wasn't drunk, she wasn't tipsy. She was just _good. _

After showering and dressing in a pair of back jeans, a frumpy cute grey sweater, and her black sneakers, she headed down to the street to hail a cab. On the ride to her destination, she quickly realized that she didn't have a clue what that destination was exactly. The surroundings they were driving through were nothing short of unfamiliar and soon she began to question just how much she trusted Sam.

The cab stopped in front of a small building and when she looked out the window she found Sam and a man she didn't recognize standing in front of it.

"You made it," Sam said as she closed the door to her taxi. The dark haired man next to him smiled at her, offering his hand.

"I did," she said to Sam before taking the man's hand and shaking it. "Hello," she greeted and then turned her gaze back to Sam as the man released her hand. "Who's this?"

"Our tour guide," Sam said. Her eyes narrowed and Sam smiled. "Arthur, this is Mercedes. Mercedes, this is Arthur. He's a tour guide from the tour service voted number 2 out of the top 10 in the country."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Arthur said, offering his hand again before he seemed to remember they'd already shaken hands, and placing his hand at his side again.

"You, too," Mercedes said, her eyes still narrowed in confusion. "Sam, what is this?" she waved her hand to signal to the general situation.

Sam sighed and looked over to the man next to him.

"Artie, will you give us a sec?"

"Sure thing, boss. I'll grab you guys a couple maps from my car," Arthur said before heading off in the other direction.

"What's going on, Evans?" Mercedes said sternly once Arthur was gone.

"You may have changed some, Mercedes Jones, but you're still all work, no play," Sam said.

"What's your point?"

"How often do you drive further than the streets your job and apartment are on?"

She blinked, her mind going blank. He wasn't necessarily _right, _but he wasn't necessarily _wrong _either.

"Sam-"

"You hesitated," he said quickly.

"Because I-"

"You couldn't pay me to let you give me the half-assed tour you had up your sleeve, Jones."

Her neck snapped back slowly and she crossed her arms upon her chest.

"Plus this one comes with a lunch do-over at a seafood restaurant you've probably never been to," he smiled.

She rolled her eyes and sighed.

"So, what'd 'ya say, you up for it? Meter's running."

She shook her head, suddenly reminded of just how frustrating it was that he could always read her like a book. She exhaled, considering what she should do as Sam watched her intently, only looking away at Arthur when he began to approach them again.

"Well?" Sam said. She huffed one final time before saying,

"Fine."

SAM'S POV

The tour had been extensive and _tiring_ to say the least. They'd pounded the pavement up and down the streets of the city and seen sites in Manhattan like the famous Time Square, Central Park, and Little Italy. They'd hopped in a taxi to Long Island City then pounded the pavement again through South and East Williamsburg, and even stopped off at the East River Bridge. It was exhausting and exhilarating and every other word that was synonymous with _exciting _because he was standing so close to Mercedes Jones the entire time. The only downside had been that by the time they were halfway through, Nicole had called him four times. And he'd ignored her call, _four_ times. But he couldn't feel guilty, not in the moment, not when he was with _her_.

Once the tour was over, Arthur had led them to thee restaurant they would be eating lunch and then he'd taken off. So now they were sitting at a picnic table at LoLo's Seafood Shack. It was a restaurant that looked like it belonged on a beach in the Caribbean. Sam had been struggling to crack open the snow crab legs he'd ordered and Mercedes had been practically dying of laughter—a sound that made the pain in the ass crabs he could barely open worth the failing effort.

"Sure you don't wanna use the crab mallet?" she said, trying to contain her laughter as he attempted for what seemed to be the hundredth time to crack open a crab leg with his teeth.

"Positive," he muttered. She shook her head, chuckling as she watched him. Then as if out of natural instinct, she reached forward, and took the snow crab leg from his mouth, her fingers grazing his lips and sending warmth through his entire body. Sam froze for a moment and then when she seemed to realize what she'd done, she froze, too. Neither of them said a word for a moment or two, and neither of them moved. And then she cleared her throat, cracking open the crab leg with her hands.

"Maybe just focus on your shrimp for now, tough guy?" she told him with a smug smile, "I'll open a few of these for you." she said. He smirked, shaking his head as he looked into his pot and picked up a piece of shrimp.

"So who are you now, Sam Evans?" she said, pulling the crab meat from the shell and dropping it back in his pot, and then discarding the shells into the bucket next to them on the floor. Then she grabbed another crab leg from his pot and started to open it.

"I honestly don't know," he laughed. "I'm the guy who doesn't know how to eat crab legs properly apparently."

Mercedes chuckled.

"A very evasive answer," she said. "Should we start with something less personal?"

"I didn't realize we were doing the whole catch up conversation today. I'd have prepared cue cards." He took a sip of his water.

"Do you like your job?"

"Love my job," he said.

"Keeping you rich?" she fired back. He half chuckled.

"I wasn't rich, my parents were," he paused before correcting with, "_Are_."

"I'll rephrase," she said. "Is your job sustaining the wealth your parents gave you, rich boy?"

Sam laughed.

"If you must know, yes. That seems like the kind of question you ask on a third date but I'll give you a pass for that intrusion since you've seen me naked already."

"Inappropriate," she said as she fought laughter. "And this isn't a date, Sam."

"I know," he said and at the same time he felt his phone vibrate his pocket. Nicole again, he would guess. Reaching down, he grabbed the outline of his phone through his pocket and pressed the button on the side of it to silence the vibration before she could hear it.

"How's your sister?" she was saying as he started to look back up. The question caused his heart and stomach to simultaneously stop and flip respectively. It was only when Sarah was brought up in casual conversation that he would feel just how fresh the wound still was.

"Sarah, um—she passed. About a year ago," he said, and the words tasted like poison rolling off of his tongue.

Mercedes' shoulders drop, her mouth opening and then closing again quickly and her eyes blinking rapidly.

"Sam, I'm—"

"The seizures she'd been having?" he began, "They never stopped. They kept showing up at all the wrong times. At her college interview, in her first day of class, at her first college party—they wouldn't stop and she was always so embarrassed. She quit college, stopped leaving the house and stopped communicating with pretty much everyone beyond me and my parents. She couldn't walk and I guess she started to feel like, with the seizures, she could barely live either." He shook his head, tears beginning to swell in his eyes. "She tried to make it look like an accident. But they found all the pills in her system afterwards."

He heard Mercedes' breathing hitch and then her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted. But she was silent. He didn't really expect her to say anything. He didn't even know why he'd said all the things he'd said. He sighed. And if he had blinked he would have missed her quickly wipe away the tear that was sliding down her cheek. It was then that he remembered that his sister hadn't been just a stranger to Mercedes. They'd spent real time together during the four years that he and Mercedes were together and they'd grown close just as he had hoped they would. He was angry at himself, all of a sudden, for not thinking to call her when it had happened. She shouldn't have had to find out like this.

"Mercedes, I'm sorry—"

"No, _I'm _sorry," she said, looking down at her lap as she wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands and shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Sam."

He smiled a small smile and nodded.

"It's fine," he said, but he didn't mean it. The table fell silent for a moment and he wasn't sure how to get them out of this moment but he knew that he had to. He grabbed another snow crab leg from his pot and offered it to her. "Back to work," he said with a smile. She chuckled weakly and took it from him.

"Just one more," she said.

Their conversation never quite returned to normal after that, though they did continue to share a few laughs. When they were done eating, Sam sat back in his chair, holding his stomach and letting out a deep breath.

"How much is all of this gonna cost anyway?" Mercedes said, finishing up cleaning her hands with a wet nap before grabbing her purse from the back of her chair.

"That's none of your concern," he said. She rolled her eyes and he chuckled. "You knew I was gonna say that, right?"

"I suspected," she said.

"Yet you still asked."

"It's been 6 years since I've seen you, Sam. I figured maybe you'd dialed back on the southern hospitality thing."

"People don't really change _that _much, Mercedes."

"Apparently not—"

"Which reminds me," he suddenly said and then started to dig for his wallet. He took out the twenty dollar bill she'd left on the table of Magiello's to pay for her salad, despite his insistence that he would pay for her food. It didn't surprise him that she'd still tried to pay. It didn't even frustrate him like it always did in the past. But still, he wasn't going to let it slide. After he folded the 20 dollar bill, he handed it to her.

"What's this?" she said as she took it.

"Proof," he said.

"Proof?"

"Yep," he said, stuffing his wallet back in his pocket. "That people don't really change."

* * *

"You were always good at decorating, right?" Sam said. They'd been riding in a taxi for about thirty minutes towards his apartment and they were almost there. Tower 47 was in the same general direction as hers so they figured they'd share one.

"I guess?" she said.

"My apartment's pretty bland—and this is _not _a ploy to get you to come into my apartment—I just really _could_ use some suggestions. It doesn't feel _homey_."

She smirked and looked at him before saying,

"This is _definitely _a ploy—"

"—_Fine_, it's a ploy," he said and she nodded. "But it's only because," he shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not ready to just say goodbye to you yet," he said.

Mercedes' eyes softened.

"_Sam_—"

"This isn't me flirting with you, Mercedes."

"I know."

"I just feel like I'm never gonna see you again after this," he admitted. "It's a big, busy city. We're just a couple of busy people inside of it. We haven't seen each other in six years because we were so far away from each other. Now we're in the same city. But I still feel like I'm gonna blink and another six years are gonna go by."

"And me coming up to your apartment with you—what's that gonna do?"

"I'm not sure. But I really enjoyed myself today. And I have this weird feeling that you're gonna dodge my calls, texts, and emails after this. So I'm not ready to let you out of my sight. Not yet."

He saw her inhale deeply and he could almost see the wheels turning in her head. Her decision came just as soon as they pulled in front of his building.

"Okay," she said. "We're just friends, Sam. But okay."

He smiled.

"Okay," he said.

Sam handed the driver an appropriate amount of money as Mercedes stepped out of the taxi. He followed afterwards, hearing her make some kind of _ooh_ noise as she looked up at the building.

"Come on," he said, leading her towards the guard at the front door. Sam nodded at him and he opened the door, allowing them through.

"Sam this is _really _nice. A lot nicer than the building my job set me up with when I first started," Mercedes said as her eyes darted around the large lobby.

"It's alright," he said as they headed for the elevator. "Everyone wears suits."

"I see," she chuckled. "Hope you've stocked up, country boy."

"Very funny—"

"Sam?" a voice suddenly called. Sam froze. He knew that voice. But that voice wasn't supposed to be _here_ in New York City. His heart picked up speed as he turned around and found Nicole standing in front of one of the lobby chairs, with a suitcase at her feet. She smiled at him and waved softly. He blinked his eyes because in the moment he felt unable to move any of his other body parts.

"One of your co-workers?" Mercedes said next to him. Sam closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed and then opened them again.

"No," he said, his eyes still on Nicole, who was rolling her suitcase towards them. "She's my girlfriend." The word felt stupid to say to _Mercedes. _It made his skin crawl a little.

Mercedes was quiet for a moment before replying almost inaudibly,

"Oh."

_Oh? _

_Oh?_

_This is not happening,_ he thought. But the chaste kiss that Nicole dropped on his lips once she'd stopped in front of them said differently.

"I've been calling you," she said, pushing her brown bangs behind her ears.

"I was out with my-," he almost laughed, completely clueless as to what to call Mercedes. "Nicole, this is Mercedes. Mercedes, this is Nicole," he said.

"Hi," Mercedes said, extending her hand.

"Nice to meet you," Nicole said as she shook her hand. It was silent for a moment after their hands had fallen to their sides again and Sam couldn't bear to look at Mercedes. But he turned his gaze to her when she suddenly broke the silence.

"I should go," she said. "Sam, we can talk about decorating your apartment another time, okay? I'll send a few interior designers I know your information," she nodded and smiled a smile that didn't reach her eyes. And then she turned back to Nicole. "Great meeting you," she said, just before she took off towards the exit.

"She seemed nice," Nicole said. "One of your co-workers?"

Sam had taken off after Mercedes before the question had left her mouth in its entirety.

"Mercedes!" he called as he ran, almost colliding with her back when she suddenly came to a stop. "Mercedes I—"

"I'm seeing someone, too," she blurted as she turned around to face him.

His chest felt like it had caved in, he felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. And the only word that he could manage was,

"_Oh_."

"Yeah." She nodded. "So just, don't feel bad, okay?"

And then without a parting word, she was gone. He was watching the woman who six years ago, he'd thought was his future, walk away from him. But she was with someone else. How had he, in a matter of five hours, allowed himself to slip into a bubble where their separation had never happened? Where they were still together, still in love, and where she was still his future?

She was with someone else.

And the sound of a suitcase rolling against the marble floor in his direction was enough to remind him that so was he.

**Thoughts?**


	6. Chapter 4: Tested

**All of this angst will be worth it soon! Sorry about any errors or, you know, tears. :)**

**_Seven Years Ago…_**

Mercedes had been sitting at her work desk when she suddenly realized that her period was almost two weeks late. A co-worker of hers with three different colors in her hair and an eyebrow piercing had leaned over and asked her if she a tampon and at that very moment it hit her that she hadn't used one herself in far too long.

_But these things happen, right? This could be completely normal. _

They were thoughts that _could _have been comforting had it not been for the fact that she and Sam hadn't exactly been _careful_ every time they had sex lately. So this seemed like an appropriate time to have a full on panic attack.

She'd left work early and called Sam as she sat in the parking lot of CVS because she couldn't get out. She needed the pregnancy test and she knew that they had plenty inside the store but she couldn't convince her body to cooperate. It just wouldn't move.

"Go home," he'd said. "I'll meet you there with the test in a half hour," he told her. So she had. And in those thirty minutes of waiting, she'd gone through an extensive series of emotions ranging from hysteria to what seemed like euphoria.

She loved Sam. They'd always talked about having children and there was no one in the world who she would want to create a life with. Accidental or not, it would be beautiful. She thought about how happy Devon and Alicia were—how amazing Avery was growing up to be. She was a small girl but a big light in all of their lives and if Mercedes could love another child even _more _than she loved that little girl, then how could this not be beautiful?

But she wasn't ready. She just barely had one foot in the door in her career and she was afraid that having a baby could impede her progress. She wanted more time. She wanted more time to prepare a good and stable life for their baby to be born into. She wasn't ready.

Now she was leaning forward on the couch, next to Sam who was sitting up straight with his hand rubbing her back. And there was a negative pregnancy test sitting on their coffee table.

_One line._

_Means negative. _

_Means "not pregnant"._

It was what she'd wanted. Which was why she didn't understand why there were tears swelling in her eyes. Sam leaned forward when he heard her sniffle and confusion fell onto his face when he saw a tear roll down her cheek.

"Mercedes?" he said, moving closer to her. "This is good, isn't it?"

"It is," she said but he could see her chest starting to rise and fall more quickly. "It's great, Sam, because we're not ready," she shook her head, her voice cracking. "We're not ready, right?"

Sam blinked and then he nodded.

"Right," he said quietly.

"Then why am I so sad?" she cried, dropping her head on his shoulder.

"I don't know," he whispered, wrapping his arm around her. "But it's gonna be okay," he told her. She lifted her head again to look up at him.

"There's no baby, Sam," she said.

"No, there isn't," he said softly.

"I didn't know I wanted there to be a baby until there wasn't one," she whimpered, shaking her head before dropping it on his shoulder again, her tears wetting his shirt. "There was _never _a baby, Sam, was there?" she looked up at him, her eyes wild with what looked like a mixture of fear and absolute despair. He smile sympathetically at her and shook his head.

"No, beautiful, there wasn't."

"There was never a baby," she said again. "So why do I feel like I lost one?" Her sobs were louder now, her body rocking with them.

"Oh, Mercedes," he said under his breath.

"What's wrong with me?" she muttered, the words breaking around her sobs.

"_Shh_," he whispered, but she didn't let up. "Listen to me," he said softly, turning a bit to place each of his hands on either side of her face so that he could look her right in the eyes. "Breathe," he said, taking a deep breath in, releasing it, and then repeating. He did this three times before she joined in, taking shaky breaths in and out until her heart rate started to return to normal.

"We weren't ready," he said once she was calm, "that's true—we aren't," he told her. "But nothing would have made me happier than seeing a positive on that test, do you understand me?"

She nodded as he wiped the tears from her cheeks and then let his hands fall from her face.

"I cannot wait to marry you and have a baby with you, Mercedes. But," he paused, "I _can. _Because I know that even though it's not happening now, it's _gonna_ happen," he told her, "we're gonna have a baby one day, when we're ready. And she's gonna be the only girl on the planet who could ever give you a run for your money," he said. She was quiet for a moment and it was beginning to worry him until he heard her chuckle.

"Apparently we're having a daughter" she said sarcastically, and the smile he heard in her voice put him at ease.

"Yep," he replied as she lifted her head from his shoulder and smirked.

"I thought we were gonna have 12 babies," she said.

"Oh, we are," he chuckled, moving to lie down and pulling her to follow him. "Don't think I forgot," he said as she rested her head on his chest and laughed.

"I still think we're gonna have to negotiate that a little bit but, okay."

* * *

SAM'S POV

**_Present Day…_**

"This is definitely an upgrade from your place in San Diego," Nicole said, taking a seat on his couch. He was quiet as he dropped his keys on the counter. "How are your headaches?" she asked him.

"Still coming and going," he mumbled, sitting on the arm of the couch.

"You have to get that wisdom tooth pulled, Sammy," she said, and he saw her move closer to him in the corner of his eye.

"I know," he said.

"Why not make an appointment for this coming week? I could stay a few extra days and take care of you."

"No," he said simply.

"Is everything okay?"

_Absolutely fucking not._

"Yes—_no,_" he almost yelled. Sam sighed. "Forgive me if I'm a little agitated but it's just—what are you doing here, Nicole?"

"I wanted to surprise you."

"We agreed that we should be apart for a little while. Get a feel for what long distance is like. We agreed on that like, yesterday," he said.

"_Yeah_, the thing about that is I'd already bought my ticket."

He crossed his arms over his chest and let out a deep breath. Then suddenly he felt Nicole's head falling to rest on his leg.

"Look if you can just get past the fact that I showed up like this and just focus on the fact that I'm here," she paused, "Aren't you at least a little happy to see me?"

His brain still couldn't fully process what had just happened. Six years ago, he would have never thought a day would come where Mercedes would be sharing her life with another man besides him. He'd have never thought a day would come where her smile would light up another man's day, where her contagious laugh would pull at the corners of another man's lips until it forced him to laugh, too; where another man's hands would touch her the way his had. Six years ago, he couldn't have seen it coming and all of a sudden he didn't quite know how they'd even ended up here. But he knew one thing for sure; the sudden hope he had felt fifteen minutes ago that he and Mercedes would be together again, that the future they always thought they would have together was still possible, had gone as quickly as it had come. Because no matter how he looked at it, she was with someone else. So he rested his hand on his girlfriend's head and ran his fingers through her hair.

"Of course I am," he lied.

"Good," she sat up, "because my sister told me about this really nice restaurant and I made a reservation for us to go there for dinner," she said.

"Um," Sam hesitated, glancing at his full stomach quickly and then looking back up at her. "Okay."

* * *

In the morning Sam opened his eyes and sat up in bed reluctantly when he realized that the day before had been real. Nicole wasn't next to him but her suitcase was on the floor next to his dresser and he could hear his shower running. They'd gone out to dinner the night before and he'd tried his best to remind himself that he really did like her, tried his best not to think about Mercedes, and tried his best not to resent Nicole for interrupting the perfect day he and Mercedes had been having together. And mostly he tried not to wonder if Mercedes loved the man she was with now. After their break up, he'd been left with a pit of emptiness that he couldn't shake; one that wouldn't let him love Nicole the way he had loved Mercedes, even when he wanted to. And now that he knew she was with someone else, he though, selfishly, that the only way that that emptiness would be worth suffering is if Mercedes felt it, too.

Now he sighed, pulling the sheets off of him and stepping out of bed. After a quick stretch, he picked up his phone from his nightstand and tried not to hope that there was text or a missed call from Mercedes.

There wasn't. So then he tried not to be disappointed as he headed for his kitchen. The thing about falling asleep on a full stomach is that he'd always wake up the next morning feeling like he hadn't eaten in three days. He grabbed the jug of milk from the fridge, took the box of chocolate cereal from the kitchen cabinet and poured himself a bowl and then took a seat at the dining table. He stood again quickly though, grabbing a spoon and bringing the bowl of cereal and milk with him to the table because he knew himself well enough to know that he was going to need to eat at least three bowls. As he ate, he focused on the word search on the back of the cereal box in an effort to not think about _anything _else. He was working on finding the word _cocoa _when Nicole suddenly appeared and began to speak.

"Okay, I can't hold it in anymore," she said, standing on the opposite side of the table with her hands behind her back.

"Hold what in?" he said, spooning a scoop of cereal into his mouth.

"The reason I'm here," she said. "I'm leaving in a couple of hours so I have to just—show you." And then she placed a pink and white box on the table that he couldn't quite make out until she slid it a bit closer to him.

A pregnancy test.

Sam dropped his spoon in his bowl and sat up straight.

"Wait—"

"My cycle is late," she interrupted him. "Really late," she said. Every part of his brain was screaming.

"I thought you were on birth control," he said.

"I missed a couple of pills when I had that crazy work week at the hospital."

Sam shook his head with every intention of waking himself from what must have been a nightmare because—

_There is absolutely no fucking way that this is happening_, he thought.

"This is insane," he said quietly. Nicole let out a small, almost inaudible, and sarcastic laugh.

"That's one way to put it, I guess," she shook her head. "And here I was, getting kind of excited."

"Look, Nicole we've never talked about this before," he said, frustration coating his tone.

"I know that," she snapped, her whole body visibly tensing before relaxing again as she sighed. "I know," she said more softly. "But we can talk about it now, right?"

_No_.

"How many tests have you taken?" he asked.

"None," she said. "I was at home with this box in my hand when I called you yesterday and I couldn't do it. Not without you. So I came here to New York."

"You came to New York to pee on a stick?"

"I came to New York to find out if we're having a baby, Sam," she said. "I thought you'd wanna know, too."

He sighed, looking down at his lap for a moment before returning his gaze to her again. He felt like he could combust if he focused hard on it enough and for a second he considered whether that would be a better alternative to being in this situation. But he took in a deep breath instead and reminded himself that if she was pregnant, she hadn't made the baby on her own.

"Sit down," he said softly. "Let me get you some water." Standing from his seat, he headed for the kitchen, grabbing a tall glass from the cabinet and then taking the pitcher of water from the refrigerator. He had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't quite identify but it distracted him so much that he'd almost allowed the water to spill over the rim of glass. He pulled the pitcher back quickly, placing it on the counter and then taking the glass to the table.

"Drink up." He placed the water in front of her and she smiled as she looked up at him.

"Thank you," she said as he started to walk away. "Hey, Sam," she grabbed his hand, halting him and bringing his gaze to her. "I'm scared, too," she whispered.

He could have laughed. If only what he was feeling was as simple as _scared_. He felt scared, angry, guilty, and trapped. He felt like he was being held underwater and no one was counting—like there was no indication of when he would be able to come up for air again and he just really, really needed to breathe.

"I should be ready to take the test after this," she said, releasing his hand. He retreated to his seat then as she mumbled something about the water being too cold. "But before I do," she began just as he sat down in his chair, "I wanted to ask you a few things."

"Like?"

"Well, for starters, who was the woman you chased after yesterday in the lobby?"

Sam looked away, intertwining his fingers in front of him on the table. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't sure he knew who Mercedes was anymore—he only knew who she had been. She'd been his everything—the most passionate, headstrong, inspirational, patient, beautiful, funny, sweet, sarcastic, difficult, stubborn, _absolute pain in the ass_ he had ever met. And he'd wanted to be with her until he died.

But how could he say that to the woman who could possibly be carrying his first child?

He felt sick.

After taking a deep breath, he figured the best thing he could do in the moment is downplay it.

"Mercedes and I dated in college for a bit. I hadn't seen her in a while so we took a tour around the city and then," he shrugged, "she was gonna come up and take a look at the apartment."

"Okay," Nicole said, nodding as she looked down at her lap for a moment. "Next question," she mumbled. But she didn't say anything for a while and Sam was about to speak when she finally opened her mouth. "What happens with us if I'm pregnant?"

He didn't hesitate.

"We'll figure it out. If you're willing to move here, we can find a hospital here for you to work at and we'll just—we'll figure it out," he said, speaking faster than his brain could completely register what he was saying. He didn't truly know what would happen, but he knew he would be there for his baby, if there was one.

"And what happens if I'm not pregnant?"

He hesitated.

"I—I don't know," he told her honestly and her left eyebrow twitched.

"So you're only sure about a future with me if I'm pregnant," she said slowly as if she was trying to make sense of it to herself.

"That's not—"

"So only _if_ I'm pregnant, you want me to move to New York."

"I think it would be the right thing to do," he replied, trying to choose his words carefully.

"But not because you want to be with me."

"Nicole—"

"You didn't _ask _me to move here with you when you first decided to come."

"We'd only been together for six months—"

"We've still only been together for six months!" she snapped. "So the baby changes things?"

"Of course it does," he fired back. "If there's a baby, then obviously I think we should try."

"But only if there's a baby," she said.

"Yeah—_no_—that's not," he sighed, "that's not what I'm saying, I just mean that, it's the right thing to do."

"_The right thing to do_," she chuckled resentfully, looking away from him. "I'm so excited for the day our child asks why we stayed together for so long and I get to look at them and say _because it was the right thing to do_."

"We don't even know if there _is _a goddamn child!" he yelled.

She didn't say anything, only looked at him, her face tense. Then she snatched the box from the table and stood abruptly.

"Let's find out," she said just before she disappeared around the corner.

* * *

Sam was sitting on the couch with his head buried in his hands as he waited for Nicole to come out of the bathroom. What was supposed to have taken five minutes seemed to have turned into ten, and then twenty, and then thirty. Part of him wanted to knock and find out what was taking so long, but most of him wanted nothing more than to stay oblivious to whatever was on that test for a little while longer. Suddenly he heard the bathroom door open and he stood quickly to his feet. Nicole stepped quietly into the living room and her swollen eyes revealed that she had been crying which made his stomach hurt immediately.

"My cab will be here in ten minutes," she said suddenly just before turning around and starting to walk away.

"What did it say?" he asked, swiftly moving to stand in front of her. She scoffed.

"Like you care."

"_What_ did the test say, Nicole?" he asked again sternly. She pushed her bangs behind her ears and sniffed.

"Exactly what you wanted it to," she said and then she started to move around him.

"Nicole," he said, grabbing her arm.

"_No, _Sam," she growled, pulling from his grip. She shook her head, her face cracking, and her eyes watering as the wrath she had clearly been feeling turned to weakness. She sniffled, running her hands over her face and turning away from him. "No," she whimpered quietly.

"I'm sorry," he said, resting his hand on her shoulder, and he meant it. The moment that Nicole had admitted she'd fallen in love with him those months ago, had been the same moment he'd started to pull away from her. But he hadn't gone far enough, not physically. Instead he'd stayed with her—continued to call her and sleep with her, keeping himself connected to her in every way besides emotionally because he hadn't wanted to be alone again the way he had been for so long since Mercedes. And in the process, he'd almost ruined her.

Interrupting his thoughts, Nicole mumbled something in response that he couldn't quite understand.

"What did you say—"

"I said it's _not _your fault," she turned her gaze to his abruptly and then shook her head. "I knew you were unavailable," she said. "I knew you didn't love me and I knew you weren't ready to, but I still just," she shrugged, "couldn't leave you alone—so stupid. I could have saved myself all this bullshit I'm feeling right now."

"You're not the only one here who knew those things. I knew, too. I knew better than you did," he said. "I shouldn't have been stringing you along. So I'm sorry, Nicole. I really am."

She didn't say anything, only looked at him for a moment, her brown eyes searching his before they filled with tears again and before he knew it, she had crashed into him, wrapping her arms tightly around him. A small part of him screamed, _love her back. _But every other part of him knew that he couldn't and questioned whether he'd ever be able to love anyone ever again. But he knew that he wouldn't become involved with another woman until he was certain that he was capable of opening himself up. He didn't want to be even partly responsible for a woman feeling like this ever again.

"You deserve better than this," he said quietly into her hair. "I don't want you to think there's something wrong with you. I don't want you think that you're hard to love," he told her. "And if you ever start to feel the need to force a guy to love you again," he shook his head, "walk away and don't look back." He knew the words probably wouldn't sit right with her coming from him but he needed to say them. It was what he would have wanted someone to tell Sarah if she had ever been in this situation.

Nicole pulled away from him, wiping her eyes with her manicured hands as she took a few steps back from him.

"Thanks, Sam," she said bitterly. "But, full disclosure; when I get back I'm probably gonna burn everything in my apartment that you've ever touched."

He chuckled as she headed for his bedroom.

"Do what you need to do," he said when she returned to the living room, rolling her suitcase alongside her. She walked past him and towards the front door as he followed.

"Well," she breathed, stopping in front of the door.

"I'll walk you outside."

"Don't worry about it," she said. "No offense, but I could use some distance from you starting immediately."

"None taken."

"Well, I guess this isn't one of those _I'll see you later _moments," she mumbled and he could see the grief in her eyes, even behind the resentment. He smiled sympathetically at her.

"Goodbye, Nicole," he said softly and he saw her inhale deeply. Then she nodded, as if those were the words she had needed to hear.

"Goodbye, Sam."

MERCEDES POV

She was pretty.

Her skin was a tanned, olive tone, her lips plump and rosy. Like Sam's. She was tall and she had great teeth and silky hair and well, she was pretty.

Not that she would have expected anything less from Sam.

Not that she expected Sam to have a girlfriend in the first place.

Not that she _didn't _expect him to have one either, it had just been—a shock. Or maybe _wake-up call _was a more fitting phrase. They weren't together anymore which was why she didn't understand why seeing Nicole's lips touch his caused something unpleasant to stir in her stomach. In the time they'd spent together that day, she'd made the mistake of almost forgetting that they weren't a couple anymore. But those were the facts. They were not together anymore and after six years of being apart, there was no telling if they really even knew each other.

But she knew Luke. She knew present Luke, not Luke from six years ago. She knew who he was right now, in this moment, and she liked him. She hadn't realized that she hadn't gotten the closure she needed from her relationship with Sam until she'd _gotten_ it. He was with someone else. He was untouchable. And all of a sudden as she rode away from Tower 47 in her cab, she really missed Luke.

**Better days are ahead, I promise! This sort of plot is gonna take some angsty situations before everything is fluff and sunshine but remember that this is a samcedes fanfiction which means they WILL be together. Hang in there. Leave your thoughts, guys!**


	7. Chapter 5: Harmless

**This chapter is really just for the purpose of transitioning so be warned, it's a bit short and uneventful. Things are gonna pick up a bit after this. Also I'm uploading from my phone so, hopefully nothing weird happens. :)**

MERCEDES' POV

It was her lunch break and she was sitting at her desk, eating leftover pasta salad while she and Alicia talked on Skype.

"How's my baby doing?" Mercedes said. Avery had been down with a respiratory infection for a few days and Alicia had been staying home from work with her.

"Still sleeping most of the time, but better," Alicia said.

"You look better," Mercedes commented, forking some of the pasta salad into her mouth. When she and Alicia had spoken on Skype a couple of days ago, Alicia looked like she hadn't slept in months. "I know seeing her on that breathing machine at the hospital was hell for you. I was worried about both of you."

"Ugh, it was, Mercedes. I had all the worst outcomes floating in my head," she said, running her hands over her face.

"I know. But she's gonna be okay. It might be hard to convince _Alicia the mother_ of that but _Alicia the nurse_ knows for a fact that she's gonna be okay. Right?"

Alicia smiled.

"Right." She nodded. "Anyway, how's Luke?"

"He's good. And no I have not spoken to Sam," Mercedes said. Alicia had developed this habit of asking about Luke before immediately afterwards asking about Sam. Mercedes was on to her.

"I can't believe y'all are gonna live in the same city and just not talk to each other."

"It's not like we're not talking because we hate each other or something, we're just busy I guess." That was partly true. Mercedes didn't have all the free time in the world on her hands but mostly she just didn't even know how to approach speaking to him again. What would it lead to? She didn't know what kind of relationship they could have if they weren't _in_ a relationship and they couldn't be in a relationship because they were both seeing other people, right? Plus he hadn't contacted her either so, she'd taken that as a sign. It had been two weeks, after all.

"You're both stubborn. Just call him, Mercedes."

"For what?"

"To hang out! You weren't _just_ dating back then, you know? You were friends, too. I dunno. It just seems weird with all the history you guys have that you're just gonna never see each other or speak again."

"History might be the reason we shouldn't ever see each other or speak again," Mercedes mumbled.

"Does that mean what I think it means?"

As if on cue, a knock came to Mercedes' door, saving her from any further questioning from her best friend.

"Alicia, I gotta go. Kiss Avery for me, bye," she said quickly before ending the call. "Come in," she called to the door.

"I'm only gonna ask you one more time to come out with me tonight and then I'm just gonna drag you," Stephanie said, standing with her hands on her curvy hips in front of Mercedes' desk.

"I don't have time, Stephanie."

"You have to _make _time, Mercedes. You spend every second of your life either here, at home, or with Luke and it's not healthy. You need to go out with other people. Namely me. Come on, it'll be harmless."

"Harmless, huh?"

"I promise," Stephanie said, crossing her heart.

Mercedes sighed, thinking it might not be so bad to get out of the house. She didn't have any plans of her own or with Luke.

"Fine," she said. "But no night clubs."

"Of course no night clubs. We're not teenagers, Mercedes."

"Alright, get out."

SAM'S POV

Sam filed into the bar behind his co-worker. It had been precisely two weeks since he went anywhere else besides work and his apartment and he guessed the stir crazy was starting to show in his irritability around the office. So he'd been all but forced to go out with his least favorite new peer and "try to have a good fucking time," as his boss had put it. That was going to be hard when the guy he was being forced to hang out with kind of acted like a freshmen fraternity kid except maybe worse. When they entered the bar, he obnoxiously scanned the room, running his fingers through his copper hair like a character from Grease and making equally obnoxious noises as he found the crowds of women scattered around to be satisfying to his taste. And then he annoyingly spun around on his lanky legs to face Sam and said,

"Gotta tinkle."

Honestly, Sam wanted to die. He thought momentarily that maybe he should take this opportunity, grab a cab and hightail it home. He'd have time, he was sure. Lines for the bathroom at bars could be ridiculously long. He was considering just how bad it would look on his part at work on Monday when his eyes fell on _her_, standing at the end of the bar next to a woman with bronze skin and dark hair. The first thing he saw was her smile and he didn't even need to look anywhere else, he knew it was her. What he didn't realize was that he had been unconsciously moving towards her from the moment he laid eyes on her. He didn't realize he was standing just behind her until she said his name.

""Mercedes," he said when he'd woken up and she didn't blink for a moment.

"Sam—you're here. You're at this bar," she said.

"I am."

"The same bar I'm at right now."

"Yup."

"Did you follow me?"

"I was gonna ask you the same thing."

"Oh please, you and I both know that you were the only one with stalker tendencies in this relationship."

"Relationship?" Stephanie chimed in and then her mouth fell open. "That's right! You're _that _Sam," she said enthusiastically.

"Shut up, Stephanie," Mercedes said.

"That depends," Sam said, not looking at Stephanie but instead looking at Mercedes, a sly grin on his lips. "What did Mercedes say about _that_ Sam?"

"Absolutely nothing," Mercedes said before her co-worker could speak. "Stephanie, this is Sam. Sam, this is Stephanie. I think you two have met"

"Not formally. Nice to meet you," Stephanie said. "Are you here alone? You could join us."

"Actually my associate just ran to the men's room. But I'm sure he'd love to join you two."

"Associate? Are you here for business or pleasure? _Please_ say pleasure," Stephanie said, batting her eyelashes.

"She's had one too many mojitos, excuse us," Mercedes said, yanking her friend away. He was watching the two of them go back and forth when Malcolm returned.

"Alright, let's drink," he said, slapping Sam on the shoulder and then heading for the bar. Sam glanced back at Mercedes and Stephanie who were still going at it and then he followed after his co-worker.

"Before we get too hammered," Malcolm began as he threw back one of three shots of tequila he'd just ordered and Sam sipped on his _Sprite_—he suddenly felt like he wasn't in the mood to get drunk tonight. "I want you to know," Malcolm continued, "that nothing I say while I'm intoxicated is 100% true. Like if I mention anything about HR planning a welcome party for you at the office, that's definitely bogus, okay?"

Sam smirked.

"Fine," he said. "You gonna be alright getting home tonight, man?"

"Ah, that's not for either of us to worry about right now," Malcolm replied, drinking his second shot.

"Well I was just gonna say if you were concerned about that then we could link up with those two over there at that table, share a cab with them. You know, just to be safe," Sam said, nodding to Mercedes and Stephanie. Malcolm followed Sam's gaze to the two women and then he did something with his tongue that strangely resembled what dogs do when they're thirsty and Sam was beginning to regret this immediately.

"On second thought," Malcom said, "I am feeling a little buzzed already," he said, throwing back his final shot before slamming the glass on the table and sucking air in between his teeth and then standing from his chair as he said, "Oh, it is a good night to be single as fuck."

"Jesus Christ," Sam mumbled as he followed behind Malcolm towards their table. When they reached it, the two women looked up and Mercedes seemed to forget to blink again for a moment.

"Mercedes, Stephanie, this is Malcolm," Sam said. "Is that offer to join you still on the table?" he was asking both of them but he was looking at Mercedes. She smiled after a moment.

"Sure," she said. They took their seats across from the women and soon everyone was exchanging credentials. When Stephanie wasn't ignoring Malcolm's constant attempts to flirt with her, she was either mumbling something to Mercedes or telling Sam about her favorite places in New York. Mercedes didn't talk much which worried him more than he thought it should. He couldn't shake the feeling that something might be bothering her, and he _had_ tried. But he couldn't. She was looking down at her phone when there was a lull at the table and he chose that moment to ask her,

"You wanna go for a walk?"

Her head popped up and the table was silent, all of them seemingly waiting for her answer. She bit the corner of her bottom lip in thought and Sam mentally kicked himself for thinking, even for a moment, that it had been a gesture of anything besides contemplation.

"Okay," she said and then Sam released the breath he had been holding as they both stood and he ignored the silent _whoops _from Malcolm.

She made it outside before he did, her arms wrapped around herself as she walked slowly ahead of him.

"Kinda chilly out here," he said ad he fell in step beside her.

"Is this the part where you offer me your jacket and I say no?"

"You've always loved saying no, haven't you?"

"No," she said and he chuckled.

"Well, sorry to break it to you but I wasn't just _offering_," he said taking his suit jacket off and draping it on her shoulders. She didn't say anything, and 0he thought he saw her smile but he wasn't sure. "You seemed quiet in there," he said.

"Long day," she breathed, glancing up at him and then looking straight ahead again.

"What a coincidence that we showed up to the same bar tonight. I was starting to think another six years might actually go by."

"It's only been two weeks."

"I know," he said.

"Things are crazy at the office right now. I'm sure it's crazy at yours, too," she said and he almost sensed a bit of melancholy in her voice.

"Definitely. Still, I'd always be glad to hear from you," he said sincerely, leaning his head down a little to look at her.

She looked at him for a moment before letting her gaze fall to her feet.

"Things didn't exactly end that great the last time we saw each other. Kind of awkward," she said.

"I should have told you I was seeing someone," he said

"I should have told you, too. Would have made it all a lot less weird," she replied. And he thought maybe he should tell her that he and Nicole had called it quits but decided soon after that he would wait, hoping another opportune moment would come up sometime that night because right now all he wanted was to make her smile.

"I don't remember it being _that _weird. The only really weird part about that day was our tour guide."

"He was kind of funny, wasn't he?"

"He kept calling me Simon," Sam said, and she giggled, making him feel a bit lighter.

"You should've corrected him like I said."

"You New York people are hotheaded, I didn't wanna start trouble," he replied.

"Now I'm a New York person?" she looked up at him.

"Barely. But you are hotheaded," he said as he came to a stop and faced her.

She laughed as she stopped in front of him and he wondered if that sound would ever cease to make him smile. He still wanted to bottle it up and keep it every time he heard it. But he was quiet then as he remembered that it wasn't his to keep anymore. Neither was she.

"Are you happy?" he said and she seemed thrown off by the question. She smiled.

"Yes," she replied. He didn't know why he'd asked or what he had been expecting her to say, but he believed her. And that changed things whether he liked it or not. He decided then that he wouldn't tell her about Nicole. Because it didn't matter. "Are you happy?" she suddenly asked.

He shrugged.

"Most of the time."

"Well that's all anyone could ask for, right?" she said. He shrugged again, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

"Look, Mercedes, I don't want things to be awkward between us. I know the last time we saw each other six years ago, we were together and we both thought it was gonna stay that way. It didn't. But above all, back then you were my best friend. And If I'm being 100% honest with you and with myself, the only reason I was able to let go of my best friend back then was because I _had _to. But now it's been six years. We're in this city together again. And I've got this hyperawareness of the distance that's _still _between us. And I don't like it. I'm not saying we should drop everything and get back together. We're different people now and I know it's not that simple. But I can't live in this city and never hear from you or see you. I guess I'm just asking if we could maybe just be friends."

She looked at him and then down at her feet and then up at him again.

"Just friends?"

"It's enough for me," he said.

"Just friends," she breathed.

"It'll be harmless."

"There goes that word again," she said. He smiled.

"Deal?"

She sighed, taking his jacket off of her shoulders and handing it him before replying,

"Deal."


End file.
